The Charade (8 page)

Chapter 5

The spread on the table before us was grand. An assortment of fine dishes awaited on the white tablecloth. Two flames burned from the tall, white candles in the middle of the table. A bottle of champagne chilled in a bucket of ice. It has half empty. The five course meal came from the creative mind of the hotel’s chef Kenny Mamman. He and Victor were roommates in college. He brought out each course and explained each dish’s intricacies with precision.

Right after we finished out our rosemary salmon salads, the dessert was brought out and Victor had to excuse himself on a conference call. He apologized for taking the call during dinner and then sauntered out of the room. Moments later his assistant Marc returned. Hesitation painted his face. “Miss Yancey?” he asked walking over to the table.

“Yes,” I said. I already knew his words.

“Mr. St. James has to leave unexpectedly. He allowed me to inform you that he will be back later tonight. He is deeply sorry.” Just as I expected.

I nodded. I threw my napkin on the table. “Great,” I said under my breath. “Hey!” I yelled trying to get Marc’s attention before he left. “You want to grab a slice of chocolate cake with me? It’ll be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“Oh, no thank you Miss Yancey. I have to get back to work.”

“Work? It’s night time and Victor is gone. You have nothing to do.” I waived my arm for him to pull up a chair and sit.

“I guess you’re right,” he said. He grabbed a plate from the tray and sat down next to me.

“So how long have you worked for Victor?” I asked cutting another slice for myself.

“Not long actually.” Marc had to be even younger than Victor. Victor was youthful, but in a hardened by the rigors of business sort of way. Marc looked his age, twenty-three—a shade younger than me.

He had boyish good looks; a Midwestern kid who could devour a plate of macaroni and cheese and apple pie in one sitting. From one glance at his body, eating fatty foods didn’t weigh him down at all. A body like that could only be sculpted from dedicated hours at a sweaty gym. His veiny forearms and biceps protruded from his black polo shirt. I wasn’t used to men who were in that sort of shape also dressing well. I had to stop myself from letting my thoughts wander. I was only there for Victor. But, he wasn’t there.

Marc was fresh out of a prestigious business school and met Victor at a groundbreaking ceremony for a local children’s hospital. At the time, Marc was in between jobs and pondered his future. He was a gofer for a local businessman and stumbled upon Victor and the two conversed because they were the youngest men there. They talked video games instead of bottom lines. He impressed Victor by his fearless attitude and his taste in first person shooters.

Still, working for a billionaire didn’t astound Marc one bit as much as it would someone else. The bright lights and power lunches didn’t impress him. The money impressed him, but he saw how fake the corporate world could be. It was cold, sterile – much different from the environment he grew up in and would rather be around. Victor was the only one who was
real
, but his plan was to work for him, continue to deposit the hefty paychecks and buy his own farm. Big time business wasn’t his forte. Too much back-biting. He’d be gray and balding before the age of thirty-five he said. And seeing how handsome he was, it wouldn’t be an ideal look for him.

As we wiped the plate clean of the cake over the next two hours, I discovered he shared the same hometown as me – Flint, Michigan. We didn’t have any mutual acquaintances, but it made for a surprising revelation. “Wow, that’s kinda crazy, huh?” he said, his eyes setting deeper upon me. “Another Flintstonian.” He tapped my knee. I turned my head so he wouldn’t see me smiling.

I hadn’t met someone so down to Earth in a long time. So lost was I in Victor’s world of presidential suites and five course meals, the grip on
my
reality was fading. I fell for a billionaire, my best friend was an escort and I had no job. Marc understood. I listened as each vowel and noun rolled off his tongue. “This atmosphere, this environment will eat you up if you aren’t the one at the top. Anything below the man at the top of the stairs is…almost worthless.”

“Like you can be casted aside at any time?”

“Exactly.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve said too much.” He threw his napkin on the table and sat up. “I’m going back to my room and get some rest.”

“Let’s do a shot!” I said. I didn’t want to be alone.

“No, no thanks. No drinking on the job. Victor doesn’t like that,” he said bashfully.

“Well, Mr. St. James isn’t here is he?” I grabbed a fifth of chilled premium vodka from the bar and placed two tall shot glasses next to it. “A drink or two isn’t going to hurt. You can’t smell vodka on you anyways.” I grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him over to the counter.

“Okay, if you insist,” he said. He seemed like the type to play hard to get. Absolutely my type.

“So, Miss Flint, are you enjoying your time with Victor?” The vodka loosened Marc all the way up. Gone was the uptightness, the prim and proper butler-ish voice and back was the down home Flint accent.

“I am.”

“You must have made quite the impression on him.” He inched closer to me. “He’s had a lot of women and none of them have lasted this long.”

“Is that right?” I brushed the hair away from my forehead. His big, boyish, brown eyes locked in on mine. I felt my heat rising like mercury in a thermometer in July.

Victor swung the door open in a fury and made Marc and I jump in fright. Instantly we backed away from each other. Victor meandered towards us with his hands behind his back and a crease between his eyebrows. The silence was deafening. He stood, surveying the scene. “Marc. You know the rules, no drinking on the job. Rules aren’t made to be broken despite popular opinion.” He grabbed the bottle of vodka and put it back in the bar.

“It was my fault Vic,” I said grabbing his hand. He seemed to ease up at my touch. “I made him do it. I was upset that you left and I didn’t want to drink alone.”

“Marc,” he said looking in my eyes. “Leave. Now. You’re no longer needed here.” He never bothered to look in his direction. Neither did I. My sex fluttered at the way his presence dominated the room. The door shut behind him. “What the fuck was that about?” he asked. His voice brewed with contempt.

“What are you talking about?”

“You two.”

“He left his phone up here and I was pouring a drink. I asked him if he wanted to do a shot. Is that a crime?”

His eyes surveyed the dinner table and rested upon the two plates with remnants of chocolate cake on them. “And he had time for cake it seems.”

“Excuse me for leaving out the part about a fucking slice of cake.”

“You fucked him didn’t you?”

“This is such bullshit. I can’t believe you.”

“I’m a jealous man. I don’t like you around other men.”

“Marc’s your assistant. Big fucking difference.”

“I don’t care. He’s a man. I don’t like you in the company of other men.”

His jealousy appalled me – and over me at that. It turned me on. “You left close to two hours ago. I’m kind of tired. I’m just going to go to bed.” I grabbed the icy bottle of vodka. “Maybe you should join me.” Walking towards the bed, I swayed my hips back and forth to taunt him.

His jealousy made me crave him even more. I just didn’t know what to expect from him. One day it was this, the next, different. A girl like me desired stability, but the St. James rollercoaster ride thrilled me beyond measure.

He ran up behind me, thrusting me backwards onto the bed. “I want you so bad. I couldn’t focus in my meeting. You were all I thought about.” When he spoke, I believed him. He heaved his clothes off and mounted me, kissing me with fervor. His hands groped my tits and my tongue found his ear and nibbled on it.

“I missed you tonight,” I said. I couldn’t believe I said that, but I let go and put it out there. I wished I hadn’t said it, but it was too late. There was no turning back. At least he knew how I felt.

“I missed you, too.”

My body seized. He
missed
me?

“I haven’t been able to get you off my mind. I just can’t.”

I panted heavy – stricken by the words he just uttered. “Fuck me now.” My heart blasted out of my chest. I draped my arms around his beastly back and intertwined my legs with his – I yearned for his touch and I didn’t want it to elude me.

He unbuttoned my blouse and threw it above us. The blade of the ceiling fan caught it and it dangled from above. Just like the movies, I thought. We kissed hungrily and I reveles in the taste of his tongue. I ached for him to penetrate me. As he groaned, I knew he felt the same. I was still in disbelief he felt the same attraction for me. He could have any woman at his beck and call – and I was
his
.

His fingers slid over my panties, sticky with my wetness. “You’re on fire,” he said.

“Just for you,” I said. I shrieked as he slithered a finger into my pussy. I curved my back and squirmed underneath him as he fit another finger into me. “I can’t take it anymore, Vic. I want you now. Right fucking now.”

The condom wrapper tore open and down went the latex over his hardness. He stood there looking at my body in glory. I couldn’t wait any longer and I grabbed his rod, pulling it towards my pussy. Victor submerged into me and within a few powerful blows, my body rose to an apex of uncontrollable electricity. I almost lacerated the skin of my bottom lip from the satisfaction. Breaths were lodged in my throat. I never had a man be able to take me to height after height like Victor did.

“Come all over my dick like you’re supposed to,” he said. I spread my trembling thighs further apart as his cock impaled my deepest pits. He rocked into me with a fever and my torso met his tempo. The way Victor St. James made love to me was an art form and I marveled at it. The movements that his hips made weren’t rigid; they were rhythmic and loose; like a world class dancer. Every muscle in his body flexed, showing every curvature, every sharp definition. The way he licked his lips when the feeling to come overtook him. Everything about him was sexy – whether he meant to do it or not.

My emotions were on full tilt. He broke me down – physically and emotionally. His aura defeated me. I planted the white flag. At that moment, he conquered me.

I lay there, my body beaten to bits and pieces of bliss as he reached his peak and every hot drop of his nectar spills into the condom. His heartbeat clattered against mine. I held his still body against mine as we drifted to a light slumber.

***

Victor held me all night. It was the first night with him I slept soundly. Every other night I tossed and turned – unsure about where he and I stood. For the first time I felt satisfied – somewhat. I was more than just sex to him. And I definitely wasn’t a hooker. I didn’t know where we were headed, but I was eager to find out. I couldn’t help but fall victim to the visions of me and him jet-setting to white sand beaches and dining at a private restaurant somewhere on the French Riviera. Or maybe Monaco.
‘Table for Mr. and Mrs. St James, please’ –
I could hear myself say.

By the time I woke up, Victor was gone. No note of his whereabouts, why he left or when he’d be back. Maybe he would text me later.

I finished brushing my teeth when I heard two voices speaking on the other side of the door. I made out one voice - Marc - but I couldn’t figure out who the other voice belonged to. It was a woman’s. Kind of ditzy and bumbling. Another assistant, maybe? Why would he need two? I threw on a bathrobe that rested on the back of the bathroom door and went out into the suite.

The woman, who looked cover-model gorgeous, shot me a look as she left the suite. The look could’ve sent the entire hotel into a towering inferno. What a bitch! What was that for? Marc saw it too and cackled.

“What was that about?” I asked Marc. “What’s her problem?” I opened the refrigerator door to pour a glass of orange juice. “Bad first day on the job or something?”

“No, that wasn’t a temp.”

“Then who was it?” I said. I took a sip of orange juice.

“Mrs. St. James.”

My body went numb. My voice went deadpan. “What do you mean Misses?”

“That was Victor’s wife.”

I spit my juice on the table.

Chapter 6

The cab driver did say it was going to be a record low that night, but I had no clue how cold it would really end up being.

I stood in front of my door and reality set in. My stomach dropped. Humiliation poured over me. The stark-white paper, taped to my apartment door, flapped in the wind. I didn’t want to go inside, but I had nowhere else to go. My bottom lip quivered.

I could have sworn I paid it. Why didn’t they call me? I paid it, didn’t I? How could they do this?

It wasn’t anyone’s doing but my own.

I snatched the shutoff notice off the door and pulled my keys out of my purse. The wind was piercing cold. It howled and several leaves flew up in a whirlwind surrounding me. It was going to be a cold night. Frigid.

A few leaves followed me inside. I stepped on one. It made a loud
crackle.
Rust and gold-colored fragments lay on my doormat. I didn’t bother to sweep it because I was too exhausted - mentally and physically exhausted.

My life had a way of pouring it on when it rained. ‘Hey, Natasha, here’s a few sprinkles’ and then
whoosh
- an all out tsunami. It’s been that way since the age of fifteen. I just couldn’t have one bad experience; I had to have four.

A glimmer of sun peeked through the trees. I wanted to crawl under the bed sheets and never come back up - except for air and maybe a sip of wine.

It wasn’t yet dawn and I saw my fog expel from my lungs. I grabbed all the blankets I could find and piled them on top of me. I didn’t expect to use them at least until Thanksgiving.

Odd how you can go from a private jet to a cab in less than twenty-four hours. What did I expect? I knew what the end result would look like.

I powered my phone on and I had new nine voicemails. Eight from Victor and one from Chandra. I deleted all of them before each message began. I wasn’t in the mood to hear excuses. I called the gas company. They were closed. I called the electric company. They were closed, too.

Draped in a bunker of blankets, I went to the cupboard and grabbed about a dozen candles. I flicked the lighter several times. No flame. I tossed it aside. I dug in my drawer for a book matches and lit the candles. They illuminated my apartment; warmed it a bit, too.

I smiled. First one in a long time. I nestled on my couch and gazed out the window at the moon melting into the sky. The last time I burned so many candles was the first time daddy left. The power had been out that day because of blown out circuit breaker in the neighborhood. My mom said he’d be back later that night, but I knew he wouldn’t – they bickered the entire afternoon. When it became dark, she lit a bunch of candles and ordered pizza. We drank fruit punch and played board games until I got the sleepy head.

There wasn’t going to be any laughing until my stomach hurt. And I didn’t have enough money to order pizza. Just me and tattered blankets in my cold, quiet apartment.

***

The next morning after a frighteningly icy shower, I called the light and gas company and got everything reactivated. They gave me an extension for a few weeks. Good thing I didn’t have a history of being late.

With the few pennies I
did
have left, I headed to the coffee shop – not to sip expensive, sugar-laden caffeine, but to job hunt. My bank account was becoming thin and I never wanted to experience my power being shut off again.

After an hour past of combing through endless amounts of positions I had no experience for, I received a phone call from a local advertising company. The human resources rep said she reviewed my application recently and thought I’d be great for the account manager position. She apologized for the short notice, but offered me an interview at three o’clock. I hoped I hadn’t sounded too eager, but I accepted with no hesitation. I would be there at three on the dot.

***

I walked into the lobby and let the woman at the front desk know of my appointment. I took the elevator to the seventeenth floor and another front desk lady greeted me. She offered me water and coffee, but I declined – all the mocha lattes from the morning left me jittery. My nerves were already shot and I hated interviews.

I sat for about five minutes when Brandy, the human resources rep, walked into the waiting area. “Miss Yancey, follow me,” she said. I followed her into the office. “Our human resources manager, Bobbie, is off today, so the owner will be interviewing you today.”

“The owner?” I asked. I swallowed hard.

“Yes. We all think you’re qualified for the job. You’ll do just fine.” We arrived at her desk and she picked up her phone and pressed a button. “Sir, the three o’clock is here to see you.” She said okay then hung up. “Right this way, Miss Yancey.”

I tried to control my breathing. Why did the owner have to do the interview? As if I wasn’t nervous enough.

Brandy opened the expansive doors. I felt my heart in my throat. “Miss Yancey, this is Victor St. James.” Blood rushed to my face and my ears burst with heat. She motioned her hand to him. “Best of luck to you,” she said leaving his office.

I stood there motionless. My mouth was dry.

“Hello Miss Yancey,” he said grinning from ear to ear, sitting behind his desk. “Please sit down.” The door slammed shut behind me.

“Unbelievable.” This had to be some sick joke.

“Here I am. Live and in the flesh.”

“If I knew you were going to be here, I wouldn’t have come.” I took a few steps backwards.

“Hello Vic. Nice to see you, too.” His smile angered me. “I don’t like the face you’re making.”

“So, you’re going to sit here and behave like nothing happened? You’re something else.”

“I’m rich, but ‘something else’ is also acceptable.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on the desk. “You so left unexpectedly. I didn’t know what happened. I know you got my calls.

“I should’ve known better. I should’ve fucking known,” I said under my breath.

“I’m beginning the think you leaving me is quite normal for you. I can’t say that I like it.”

“And I’m beginning to think you
lying
to me is normal too. Stay the fuck out of my life.” I darted for the door.

“Lying? Natasha, wait!” The calmness vanished from his voice. “Please, tell me what’s going on! I deserve to know.” Victor hopped out of his chair and hurtled for me.

“You deserve to go to hell.”

“I deserve
you
.”

“You deserve your
wife
.” He stopped mid-stride. He straightened his necktie and smoothed the lapels on his suit. A look of confusion dripped from his face. “You heard me. Your wife.”

“I don’t know what you were told or saw, but it’s not the truth.”

“I’m not stupid Victor.” He tenderly took hold of my hand.

“Natasha, I’m not married. Where did you hear that?” His voice near frantic. I never heard his voice like that.

I yanked my arm from his clutches. “I saw her that morning. The blonde. Marc said her name was Mrs. St. James.”

“Marc,” he muttered to himself. He closed his eyes and shook his head. His lips colored to a smirk. “So you’re going to believe Marc over me?”

“Now you’re calling Marc a liar? I
know
what I saw.”

“Marc doesn’t know my life.”

“I don’t care anymore. All of this…your life…me and you…it’s too much for me to handle. I can’t deal with all of this.”

“I care about the truth. She isn’t my wife…anymore.” His voice trailed off.

“Anymore?” I threw my hands in the air. “Yeah, very reassuring.”

“We
were
married. It was Vegas.”

“And that’s supposed to me make me feel better?”

“Look. My team and I were celebrating our first merger…”

“…drinks flowed, you fucked a model, Elvis married you, and then you met me. But never did you once stop to think maybe I should tell her I’m married.”

“She’s not a model.”

“What does it fucking matter? You know what I mean.”

“It was a stupid, drunken idea. It was annulled the next morning. Thank God.”

“Yeah, thank the good baby Jesus.” I grabbed the door handle.

“Do you still think of me?” My body jolted. My hand froze on the handle. “Because you are all I think about, Natasha.” He inched closer. The wooden floor creaked under his cognac wingtips.

“I didn’t know you would be here.”

“I own the company.” He took another step. “I own a lot of things”.  Then another. “I know deep down you wished you’d see me again.” My throat stiffened. “I don’t believe in mere happenstance.” He spun me around. “
Everything
…happens for a reason.”

“I don’t know what to believe.” My voice wavered.

“Believe in us.” Heat radiated from him like an inferno.

He took my head by his hand and tugged his lips towards mine, teasing my skin. He suspended his embrace for a split second, scanning my gaze deeply. His eyes jutted left to right. Victor pulled my neck and our lips crashed into each other’s.

I stopped him. “Victor, I can’t.” His fingers grazed the bottom of my chin. His look, steady and determined. I somehow broke away again. “I can’t trust you,” I said, breathless.

“Why would I
start
lying? I’ve hidden nothing from you.”

“Except your marriage.”

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

“Then why was she there?”

“She’s dating my CFO.” He chuckled.

“Your life is too much.”

“You
are too much. And I can’t get enough.” He stirred closer. The heat between us could’ve burst into flames. Our mouths met again. Then our tongues. They swirled lightly against our jaws and our teeth. His hands groped my back, forcing me against his taut body. I seized his face and melted my lips deeper onto his. Soft moans exited my lungs.

This was stupid of me. Reckless.

I groaned louder as his hands enveloped my breasts. His fingers grazed my nipples jolting pleasure throughout my bones. Victor backed me into the door.
Thud.
My body, helpless to his whim. His lips traced my cheek to my ear and down to my neck. I arched my back, letting him take hold of me.

“I can’t go a day without your skin against mine,” he said. “I need that pretty pussy to throb against my cock. I ache for it. Daily.”

No guy ever talked to me like that. It was vulgar, grating, and so overwhelmingly hot and adding to him pinching my nipples repeatedly, it wouldn’t take much for my slit to erupt in waves of pleasure.

His hand slithered under my skirt and plucked my soaked panties down to my ankles. His fingers teased my smooth, womanly folds. My body struck against the door. His face plugged with carnal delight. “Look at this.” He lifted his fingers to his face. They were canvassed with wetness. “My fingers are saturated.” His eyes hooded and then he inhaled deeply. “Look at how bad you want me.” I had no response for him. My body did all the talking.

Victor caressed his tongue up and down my neck and then slid two fingers inside of me. I cried out from the jolt of his forcefulness. I arched my back as he planted me firmly against the door. I breathed uncontrollably, an orgasm was sure to be near. “Natasha, I love how your cunt tightens around my fingers,” he whispered. “Just wait until my cock is in side you.” Three fingers curled into me. I wasn’t sure if I could take another. He stroked in to my snatch furiously.

“Victor.” His name escaped my dry mouth with a whimper. I spread my legs out further and his fingers plummeted deeper into me, stretching out my walls to the maximum. He grabbed my skirt and lifted it to my waist. I knew what was next. I craved it. I pumped down on his fingers to match his rhythm. The slippery sound resonated through his office. I didn’t care who heard it.

He took hold of my thigh and buried it up against the door making a loud thud. My hands were next. He grasped them with his right hand and pinned them against the door above my head. I was helpless beneath him. He placed his tongue in my mouth and continued thrashing my pussy with his hand – each pump brining me closer to orgasm. I toppled under him, my eyes tightened shut and lips quivered.

I couldn’t hold back anymore. “You’re going to come aren’t you?” he asked. My reply was inaudible, just a murmur, but he understood it because he giggled devilishly. I reached the brink of my orgasm and violently contracted around his rigid fingers. I cried out his name at the top of my lungs. My arms drooped around his neck.

The sound of the condom wrapper ripping open made me open my eyes, awakening from my spell of pleasure. He wasn’t done with me. My heart beat to a rapid pace, almost thundering out of my chest. “I fucking want you right now,” I said. My voice was ragged and unrestrained. How it sounded frightened me; I never heard my voice that way. Victor stepped back a tad and tilted his head down. His mouth parted and he stuck his tongue between his top lip and front teeth. He was ready.

“Ask and you shall receive.” His taut body melted onto mine and I bucked as he plundered his staff into my welcoming garden. He grunted. “Natasha, you’re so tight.” Inch by slippery inch he immersed his erection into me until his head kissed the bottom of my tunnel. His cock fit perfectly in my pussy. From the penetrating look in his eyes – he knew it too. Our faces were centimeters away from each other’s. Our hot, moist breaths fused together.